


a love story set to grim grinning ghosts

by fliipwizard



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eddie Kaspbrak is Trying to Piss Off His Neighbor, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, M/M, Richie Tozier Flirts, Richie Tozier is a Pop-Up Halloween Store Employee
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26604808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fliipwizard/pseuds/fliipwizard
Summary: this au is definitely not inspired by my brief but turbulent employment at sp*rit h*lloween. not at all. anyway that company owes me money and i aim to fucking collectrichie, bill, and mike manage a pop-up halloween store. eddie is trying to spite his neighbor with increasingly horrifying halloween decorations but doesnt know shit about setting them up. he's spent so much time and money at that store. he needs help
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 11
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi welcome to my twisted projection fanfic

The electronic bell above the door sounds and Richie quickly puts down his phone and straightens up from where he was leaning on the counter. “Hi welcome to Banshee Boogaloo: Bewitching Baubles and Badass Bedeckings! Oh, hey!”

Richie knows a few things about the guy who walks through the door. He’s a regular. His name is Eddie Kaspbrak, which Richie only knows because he donates $5 to the BOOS (Banshee’s October Offerings Season) program each time he’s come in and every time he signs his name in impossibly neat and legible cursive, with the same speed people use to scribble out a squiggle that could loosely be interpreted as their name. He’s short, constantly in a suit and tie, slicks his hair back with way too much gel, and he has the angriest aura around him constantly. And he’s spent close to $500 at this store in the two weeks in which he’s been coming in at least once per day.

Richie’s smitten.

“What’ll it be today, pardner?” Richie puts on a horribly affected southern accent, makes like he’s got some chew, and props his foot up on his chair so he can lean over and rest his forearm on his leg. “Them anee-mah-tronics gettin’ at’cha again? Dern things give me a right case’o the heebie-jeebies I tell you what-”

Eddie interjects with a loud, angry groan. “No! Stop it! Fuck right off with the theatrics I am  _ not _ in the mood.” He sets down a bag on the counter. “This fucking- the- the thing! This thing!” And pulls out a flying bat. Classic. “It won’t fucking fly. I put it on my porch and turned it on and it fucking- it  _ won’t! Go! _ I could’ve bought a shitty $5 cloth one that doesn’t move and it would’ve been scarier!” He gestures wildly and his face is getting even more heated by the minute and other people are staring. But Richie  _ loves _ it; loves having this little shortstack blow up about something that went wrong, knowing that he doesn’t really mean it and he’s not angry at Richie. They’re both the center of attention and Richie’s about to make Eddie lose his fucking marbles. “My neighbor saw me fucking around with it too and now she’s not scared of it and she fucking  _ scoffed _ at me and do you know how shitty that feels-”

“Eds.” Richie picks up the bat.

“ _ What! _ Don’t fucking call me that asshole you know I hate that-”

Richie pulls the tab separating the included batteries from powering the bat. It’s bright yellow, sticking out like a sore thumb on the black background. It says ‘PULL TO OPERATE.’ The bat whirrs to life and starts chattering and moving in Richie’s hands before he switches its switch to OFF. And then he sets it on the counter. A kid sets off one of the clown animatronics and it starts laughing.

Eddie hisses out, “Ifuckinghateyou,” in a rush, and swipes the bat off the counter. It clatters to the floor. “I’m never coming here again. I can’t fucking take this anymore.” Then he picks up the bat, dumps it back in the bag, and stalks off to the home decor section.

“I love you too, cutie!” Richie calls far too loudly, swooning and batting his eyelashes while the kid by the clown giggles at his antics.

“ _ Stop! _ ” Eddie yells into the void of purple and green packaging.

Richie would find this job way less fulfilling if it weren’t for making kiddos laugh and teasing the cute regular.

* * *

“Billiam. Would it be weird if I asked Eddie for his number?” It’s a Monday night, slow as hell, and Richie’s sitting with his friend/coworker, Bill, sharing Postmated McDonalds fries between them even though they’re not supposed to have food behind the counter.

Bill takes a second to think, long enough for the little girl animatronic in the back to go through a full rotation of her script. “ _ Shhhhh, you don’t want to wake up my mother… She’s been sleeping for a loooong time… Hee hee hee! Can you keep a secret? Hee hee hee! _ ” Richie named her Lucinda since her box doesn’t have a name on it.

“No, I don’t th-hink so. You’re the o-one who can’t leave. It’s not as creepy and vi-vi-vio-vio- f-fuck!”

“Violating.”

“Ye-ah. Doesn’t hurt to try.” The door dings, and Bill shoves the McDonalds out of sight and greets the mom and kid who came in. “Are you wo-orking with Mike tomorrow?”

“Sure am, Billy-boy. Jealous?”

Bill turns as red as his flannel. “No! I’m no-ot I was just cu-urious.”

Richie’s about to respond when the mom from earlier says, “Excuse me? Do you have Where’s Waldo costumes?”

“Oh, sure I do! Kids or adults?”

* * *

Richie’s spinning the bright yellow hanger hook between the fingers of his right hand while he watches Eddie frantically look over the animatronic accessories. “And you’re suuuure you don’t need help?”

Eddie picks up a multi-prop remote and puts it down just as quickly. “No! I don’t! I know what the fuck I’m doing!”

“Sounds like you’re about two seconds from imploding like a dying star and I’m not qualified to clean up real blood.” For that, Richie just gets a huff, and he turns to Eddie’s new companion instead. “And how about you? The Harley Quinn section’s dope as hell, huh?”

She’s got short, red hair and a loud patterned button-up. Richie’s extremely jealous that she makes his style look hot. “It is, but I’m not about wearing stuff that’s gonna fall apart. Unless I want it to.”

Eddie huffs again. “Bev doesn’t need any help, either, asshole. She’s a fucking fashion designer. She can run fucking circles around the shit here.”

“‘Kay, Spaghetti, I get it. Should I be jealous that my favorite little customer’s got a girl with him, though? Am I not courting you well enough, Prince Kaspbrak?” Richie slips into a prim British Voice, getting down on his knees and reaching his hands up. “I know I am but a lowly peasant, but I cannot bear to part with you, Your Highness!”

Bev snorts, though Richie’s not sure if it’s from his question or from the way Eddie flushes immediately and grabs a rubber snake to throw at his face. “I’m taken, BBBB&BB employee who’s not wearing a nametag.”

“Richard Tozier, madame, at your service,” he uses his pose to dip into a low bow.

“Beverly Marsh. You may rise.”

“Yeah, get off the fucking floor. That’s disgusting. I have no idea how much you guys sweep and mop but the tiles look like you threw them into a fucking bog and shoes drag in so many microorganisms from god knows what you’re stepping in outside not to mention how many kids have probably drooled on their toys and dropped them and  _ put them back in their mouths _ in here.”

Richie’s only had Eddie Kaspbrak in his life for a few weeks, but he would do anything to hear him ramble out a run-on sentence like that again. And again, and again.

“And don’t call me Spaghetti, fuckface! Say my fucking name!” He nearly runs his hands through his hair in frustration before remembering it’s still styled. “Just! Ugh! Fucking help me find something to pop up from the stupid shitty coffin you made me buy. My neighbor put up even more crosses and she’s gonna get out the fucking Christmas decorations soon and I will  _ not _ comply to a fucking 100-year-old Nativity set passed down from stuffy old woman to stuffy old woman!”

“Oh hell yeah. How ‘bout a corpse in a morgue? Get you a Dr. Frankenstein to go next to it.” Richie braces himself, drops the hanger hook, and throws his arms up to the ceiling. “IT’S ALIIIIIIIVE!” he yells in his best mad scientist.

“R-Richie shut the fu-uck up! You’re sc-scaring my brother!” Bill yells from the front. “You’re luck-y-y there’s no ki-ids in here besides Guh-Georgie!”

“I’m not a kid! I’m twenty-eight! I’m literally an adult!” Georgie, previously comparing two staffs for his D&D cosplay, brandishes one at his brother. Richie tunes it out, though there is a lot of clanging and Bill yelling about ‘if you break it, you buy it!.’

He leads Eddie over to the corpse animatronic, stomps on the button (this one is picky) and delights as he jumps back. Eddie’s seen literally everything in this store hundreds of times, but he still asks Richie for help. Still gets scared when the animatronics move. Still looks at every single item each time he’s in, just in case something changed.

“Now before we run into issues with this one here, how about I just give you my number so you can text me if it stops working?” He feels the anxiety course through him, and he thinks that his new best friend Beverly Marsh is psychic because he’s known her for about 10 minutes and she’s giving him a Look that says ‘I know what this is about.’

Eddie, now in the middle of trying to lift the animatronic box with his legs but struggling, grits out a, “Fine.”

Richie didn’t expect it to be that easy. Shit. 

“Sick. Lemme write it down for you at the counter. I’ll get that.” He squats down, picks up the box, and carries it to the counter. If he turned around and paid attention, he’d see Eddie going red for not-entirely-anger-related reasons.

Two days later, Richie’s phone lights up to an unknown number, but he quickly changes the nickname.

Eddie💗, the Cute One from Work: This corpse is busted. I hate this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more off-brand halloween pop-up store shenanigans, ft the only pop culture references i can understand bc im sheltered, things i did at spirit halloween that i project onto richie, too much italics use, and more!

Richie’s phone goes off while he’s working on an animatronic; the giant fuck-off clown in the front won’t move and if he has to hear its laughter followed by some random guy saying “That’s lame” because it won’t move, he’s going to self destruct.

So it takes a while for him to check on the text. He’s delayed in his repairs by several kids asking what he’s doing. “Is the clown gonna be okay?”

“Yep! I’m makin’ him feel better.”

“Is he sick? My daddy says when you’re sick you need to drink lots of juice. Are you gonna get him juice? Cranberry’s my favorite.”

“It’s okay, he doesn’t need juice. Cranberry is a nice choice, though. I’m a fan of apple, myself.”

“Apple juice has worms in it! My friend said so!”

“Oh jeez, what? How did I not know that? Tell me more!”

After an absolutely riveting and adorable conversation about juice with the 7-year-old watching him repair the animatronic, he finally looks at his phone.

Eddie 💗 the Cute One from Work: I have spent my entire Saturday trying to get this jumping spider to work and it won’t work I think it hates me and I hate it

Eddie 💗 the Cute One from Work: How do you set this up so it doesn’t fall over when it jumps the legs won’t hold their position it hit me in the leg

Eddie 💗 the Cute One from Work: I think I got it

Eddie 💗 the Cute One from Work: Fuck this I hate this I’m never buying anything from you again this was the worst suggestion yet

Eddie 💗 the Cute One from Work: Now I’m fucking tangled in spider webs what the fuck

Eddie 💗 the Cute One from Work: I can’t get out of these spider webs what the fuck what the fuck why are these things so long

Eddie 💗 the Cute One from Work: I’m going to die here and it’s your fault I’m going to haunt your ass for so long and it’s going to be extremely bad and scary

Richie snorts and Mike, organizing hangers because there’s nothing better to do, looks over. “Are you on Tiktok again? I told you, there’s kids here. Your feed isn’t even remotely appropriate.”

“Nope.” Richie holds up his phone to Mike’s face so he can see the barrage of texts. “Our friend Eddie has apparently ensnared himself in fake spider webs.”

Mike takes his phone to read it because he has the mannerisms of an old man. “Oh that’s hilarious. You’re off in, what, 30 minutes? Tell him you can help.”

Richie’s brain isn’t so good at holding his mouth back, especially when he’s flustered. He blurts, “I can’t just fucking ask to go to this cute guy’s house like a fucking creep.” His hands snap up and slap to his mouth. But his body is apparently in cahoots with his brain because he smacks too hard and knocks his lip against his front teeth. “Shit! Fuck!”

And Mike, properly laughing now, takes Richie’s hand to move it away. He looks at Richie’s lip and announces, “No blood.” 

“Mike I have to go home. I’ve suffered a severe workplace injury.”

Mike shakes his head, smiling, and looks around the store a bit. “Go do recovery and see if that family needs help. Then you can go, I’ve got it.” Richie’s about to grab the hanger hook because why walk the floor without it when it’s so fun to play with, but Mike says, “If you promise to ask Eddie if you can go over to his place to help out.”

Richie takes out his phone, slides it across the counter to Mike, and starts singing: “Be… my…. guest! Be my guest! Put his patience to the test!”

“Shut up and pick up that Scooby-Doo costume off the floor, you dingus.”

“Tough crowd,” but Richie goes anyway.

After picking up the poor Fred costume, playing peek-a-boo with a toddler around the girls’ “horror” costumes aisle, and dragging a seemingly endless amount of scary clown hammers back to the weapons aisle, Richie goes back to the front counter. A customer is ringing out with Mike, so he steps in to bag their items.

“Oh hell yeah, this outfit is sick!” He wraps up the jug of fake blood separately, just in case.

“I’m going as Jennifer Check!” the customer, a beautiful woman in a star-patterned jumpsuit, says. “I’m keeping my hair black just for that. Once Halloween is over, I’m gonna spend like, four days in the salon going to baby pink. I want my hair to look like a cloud.”

Richie gasps dramatically, fanning his face. “I love  _ Jennifer’s Body _ with my entire heart. You’re gonna look so good!”

The customer waves her hand at him but smiles. “Thanks. I’d love to chat about how Jennifer and Needy deserved to kill evil men together and make out, but I’m on my lunch break.”

Richie nods sagely and Mike calls, “Have a nice day!” out the door as the customer leaves. And then he turns, handing off Richie’s phone. “Eddie says he’s still tangled in fake spider webs and is expecting you. He said to bring scissors.”

Richie sheds his apron and Mike tucks it under the counter. “You sure you don’t need any help? Bill won’t be here until 5.”

And then Bill walks in, towing Georgie. “I’m on babysitting duty.”

“I’m here until DnD starts at 6. Bill’s just being rude.”

* * *

Eddie’s house is in a suburb, sandwiched between two identical yards with two identical cars. The way to tell Eddie’s house apart is the Ode to Banshee Boogaloo that the outside has become; Richie recognizes every single decoration. He sold Eddie all the pieces, and the puzzle sits here, half-put-together and haphazard. You can also tell it’s Eddie’s house because he’s sitting on the front step, wrapped in fake spider webs with his head in his hands.

He looks up when he hears Richie’s car pull up, “If you didn’t bring scissors I’m going to spontaneously fucking combust.”

“I got you, babe!” Richie calls and waves the scissors.

“Don’t  _ fucking _ do that! Jesus Christ you’re gonna kill somebody, asshole!”

Richie makes a big show of wrapping his hand around the blade, protecting the tip, and taking careful steps up to Eddie’s mini porch. “Sorry, Eds. Forgot I was holding a lethal weapon they give to children.”

“They give kids safety scissors for a fucking reason. Just- fucking- cut me out of these webs so I can throw them in the fucking garbage.”

Eddie is well and truly fucked up. The webs are wrapped all the way around his torso, stretching from his arms to his sides and between his legs- yep, nope, not thinking about that. Richie can pretend to assess the damage, but he can’t let himself go down that road or  _ he’ll _ spontaneously combust.

“How did you manage this, anyway?” Richie asks while he steels himself to get in Eddie’s personal space and make the first cut.

Being close to Eddie is like being close to a live wire. The hairs on Richie’s arms stand up and the air crackles in warning that lightning is about to strike. He moves Eddie’s arm out of the way and half expects to see an arc of static shoot between them. And Richie can’t fool himself into thinking it’s just his dumb crush—Eddie is teeming with energy all his own. The space around him vibrates with potential. And Richie’s been struck too dumb to continue the conversation when Eddie answers, “They have a mind of their own. I’m half convinced you did this on purpose- sold me fucked up spiderwebs to see me flail all over the fucking place.”

“Mhm.” He can pass it off as concentration if he tries hard enough, he thinks. Until-

“So you agree with me? You sabotaged my yard for shits and giggles? Prick.”

“Oh, definitely. I have the power to reseal packaging perfectly just to pull one on you.” He cuts through some more of the webbing around Eddie’s shoulders. “How am I going to keep my job at BBBB&BB now? Please, mistah, it’s me only job!”

Eddie snorts. “Oh yeah, I’d deprive you of minimum wage. How evil do you think I am?”

“Evil ‘nuff to make the spiderwebs decide they’re into bondage.”

That pulls a laugh out of Eddie so forcefully that he jerks, right as Richie’s starting on his chest, and a  _ snip _ decides their fate.

There’s now a decent-sized hole in Eddie’s shirt. A blank athletic tee, white with moisture-wicking fabric. And it was entirely plain until Richie cut a hole right at Eddie’s nipple.

The air around Eddie gets more electric. Richie’s pretty sure he’s actually been struck by lightning now because Eddie pushes him back on his ass.

“ _ What the fuck!” _ Eddie screeches. “This shirt is brand-fucking new!” He swipes the scissors from Richie’s grip, probably to keep him from doing any more damage seeing as he’s gone from 0 to near-pissing-his-pants laughing in the two seconds it took for him to realize what happened. And Eddie makes quick work of the rest of the webs now that his arms are free. And Richie’s laughter dies because Eddie’s next step is apparently taking off his shirt.

_ Hm _ , Richie thinks.  _ Is it ethical to take brain screenshots of someone’s abs? And since when have I been a tit guy? _

And Eddie whips the shirt  _ at _ him, and why is being hit in the face with a newly-ruined workout shirt  _ hot? _

“You owe me $40.”

Richie grabs the shirt and reluctantly whips it back. “Forty fucking dollars? What kind of bougie stores do you shop at?”

“The kind that make shirts that I don’t appreciate being turned into a half-assed ghost costume, you fucking dipshit.”

“Hey- d’you think if I cut a hole in the other nipple it’d prevent chafing? I think I just invented a new trend, Eds, I’m a genius!”

“Don’t call me Eds.” And then Eddie disappears into the house, and Richie’s pretty sure he fucked up for real until Eddie comes back with a new shirt. The same kind but in a different color. “Are you going to help me fix all this, or are you saying Mike is a liar?”

Richie’s still on the ground. A lot has happened in a span of five minutes and he kinda feels like the ground is his new best friend. “So you dress like a cartoon character. Same outfit all the time. Isn’t that what Steve Jobs did? Do you have his autobiography? I bet you do, that’s some nerd shit I’d expect from you.”

Eddie just kicks him in the shin and holds out a hand to pull him up. “Nevermind, I’m throwing all of it, including you, into a volcano.”

Richie grabs his hand, suppressing the shiver that Eddie’s charged body sends through him. He lets Eddie pull him up. “Sick, dude. Free hot tub.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @fliipwizard on twitter, comments fuel my writing gremlin and make the depression move out of the way so i can actually focus for once

**Author's Note:**

> @fliipwizard on twitter (nsfw, minors dont interact). comments and kudos feed the au pls giv......... also if anyone knows of public clowntown discord servers pls lmk twitter is very hard for me im old


End file.
